Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [187]
“These dreams, aye,” I said. “And if the dead may guide me, how can I not believe the Quechuas’ ancestors may aid their own folk?”
Thierry looked away. “It is a great deal to ask.”
Bao laid a hand on his shoulder. “I find purpose in it, your highness,” he said. “It gives meaning to my own death.”
Thierry gave him a stricken look, eyes glimmering in the twilight. “How can you think our salvation lies in killing an innocent girl in cold blood? It’s monstrous!”
“I do not think it is our salvation,” Bao said somberly. “I believe it is theirs. There are two tales being played out here, your highness, two destinies converging—the destiny of Terre d’Ange and the destiny of Terra Nova. The Quechua have a right to choose their own, and the maid Cusi has chosen hers.”
“You believe this?”
Bao nodded. “I do.”
The prince was quiet for a long moment. “Raphael spoke truly the other day,” he said at length. “Mad though he may be, he was right. I yearned to restore House Courcel to greatness with this adventure, and I nearly succumbed to despair knowing I had failed so horribly. But glory is not always found where it is sought. Raphael taught me a bitter, bitter lesson. My father is dead, and the throne of Terre d’Ange is occupied by a usurping regent. I need to begin thinking like a King, not a would-be adventurer and hero.” His gaze rested on me. “When a bedraggled courtesan and a renegade Cassiline Brother stumbled out of the Skaldic wilderness with a wild tale of intrigue, betrayal, and mystic portents on their lips, the great Ysandre de la Courcel did not discount them,” he said slowly. “She heeded their warning, and gave them whatever aid she could to accomplish an impossible task.”
I held my breath, watching Thierry come to a decision.
“So be it,” he said in a firm voice. “I will do no less. Moirin, your visions have guided you truly thus far. I will trust that the gods have sent you, and put my faith in them. Whatever I may do to aid you, I will do.”
My eyes stung. “Thank you, my lord. I will try to be worthy of it.”
Thierry smiled wryly, turning his empty hands palm upward. “I fear it is a hollow gesture. I have little aid to give.”
“You’ve your wits,” I said. “I’ve need of good counsel. In Qusqu, we must find a way for Bao to take the place of the high priest in the Temple of the Ancestors. And we must do so without harming any of the priesthood.”
“Is there aught with which you might drug them?” Thierry suggested promptly. “In the tales of yore, Phèdre nó Delaunay used a tincture of opium to drug the men of Dar˘sanga.”
I blinked at his swift reply. “No, not that I know of… but if such a thing exists here, I know who would know it.”
“Eyahue,” Bao said.
I nodded. “Exactly.”
Thierry frowned. “Are you sure you can trust those Nahuatl? The big warrior obeyed Raphael without a moment’s hesitation.”
“It is their way,” I said. “Temilotzin knew your men were doomed, your highness. He granted a swift death to one, and the mercy blow to the other when I begged him.”
“Through great hardship, Eyahue and Temilotzin have shown great loyalty,” Bao added. “I trust them as much as any man in our company.”
After a pause, Thierry nodded. “I take you at your word. What, then, of the coming war? Is there no way to avert it?”
“I fear not,” I said soberly. “It is not only Raphael who hungers for it. You saw Prince Manco in the throne-hall. He is a bloodthirsty idiot eager to see his own father overthrown. The men of Vilcabamba are eager for this war.”
“Yearning for greatness,” Thierry murmured. “Even as my own yearning set this tragedy in motion.”
I took his hands in mine. “It is not a tragedy yet, my lord. Let us pray that we may yet avert the worst.”
He squeezed my hands in reply. “I do.”
SIXTY-SIX
Since I was forbidden contact with anyone save the Maidens of the Sun, the following day, I sent Machasu to arrange for a clandestine meeting with Eyahue in the living quarters adjacent to the temple.
“Why do you want such a thing?” the old pochteca asked upon hearing my inquiry.